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McQueen’s apartment felt much quieter after Raxa and the Bloodwolves left. Between suddenly getting sucked back to the Brightside and being reunited with the ones he cared about, especially after a year of being isolated in the Darkside, Dooley’s head was still spinning slightly from getting tackle-hugged by his trio of not-scouts-for-legal-reasons. They had clearly been working on getting their Touching Reunion Badges.
One of the two greatest parts of returning to the Brightside was the thought of being able to see Patrica and Buzz again. Francis had already called Dooley’s sister moments after bringing him back. Dooley was not ashamed to admit that he cried after hearing his sister’s and nephew’s voices for the first time after a year of talking to silent mannequins that failed to fill the lonely hole inside him during the year.
Now, they were on their way to McQueen’s apartment to pick him up and bring him home. The grin on Dooley’s face was wide and giddy as he bounced his leg while sitting on his friend’s couch. He turned when McQueen entered the living room, two steaming mugs in hand. The detective practically fell backwards onto the couch as he handed Dooley one of the mugs.
“Hot chocolate.” He said, his voice tired, contrasting the joy in his eyes. “I thought you’d like something more normal now that you’re back. I heard that the Darkside doesn’t have the most… appealing drinks to brightsiders.”
He wasn’t wrong. Dooley could recall a bar or tavern that had something akin to a swift kick in the arse as a menu item.
“Thanks Detective.” Dooley responded happily, taking the mug. “I really missed real sugar. The Darkside only had this stuff called ‘cane sugar’.”
McQueen looked like he wanted to say something for a moment, but his face shifted into a soft smile instead, his eyes gentle and nostalgic. “Sounds awful, partner. I’m glad you’re back.” He said, putting a hand on Dooley’s shoulder.
Their attention was caught by a long meow coming from in front of them. Looking down, both men spotted the black, green eyed void of fur that was McQueen’s new cat. The feline hopped up onto the couch and settled herself onto the armrest, tucking her paws under her to form the loaf shape that house cats were known for. She mewed softly again before turning her head away from Dooley and McQueen.
“Heh, I forgot to ask, who’s this?” Dooley asked.
“PD.” McQueen answered. “I uh… I found her while I was putting up more missing posters of you. She followed me back to my apartment, so I figured why not take her in?”
Dooley ignored the faint ache he felt in his soul as he heard the mention of McQueen’s efforts to find him. “What does PD stand for?” He asked.
McQueen’s gaze faltered with a hint of embarrassment for a moment before saying anything. “Nothing in particular…” he mumbled, leaning against the back of the couch.
Dooley had seen many versions of a tired Francis McQueen over the years. Sometimes it was versions that were burnt out, sometimes they were on the brink of a breakthrough, and sometimes they simply decided that they didn't want to sleep. This version of tired McQueen was constantly staring off into the distance yet still holding a conversation, fiddling with his sleeves clumsily, and kept rubbing his left eye with his right hand.
In other words, he was losing sleep over being anxious about something. Dooley had spent a year wondering if McQueen was okay without him around. Now, he could see that in that very moment McQueen needed help with something, something that Dooley intended to help him with. Helpfully.
“Are you okay, Francis?” Dooley asked.
The reaction was very subtle, but Dooley could see the slight wave of panic wash over McQueen. The kind of panic that goes through someone who knows that they’ve revealed too much about their mental state through body language. His eyes remained trained on Dooley as his mouth moved, only choked noises coming out as the detective attempted to speak.
Then the tears came. McQueen’s eyes watered as his voice cracked, his vocal chords acting against his wishes. PD leapt onto the weeping detective’s lap in an instant, purring softly as she urged him to pet her. McQueen’s hands obeyed, trembling less and less as they worked through the cat’s shadowy fur. They did not still completely, but they certainly calmed down.
“Francis?” Dooley exclaimed, ditching his beverage in favor of reaching a hand out towards McQueen, hovering over Francis’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“I-I don’t- I mean I’m not- I just-!” McQueen struggled to speak, his breathing uneven and messy. His hands traveled from PD’s back to the cat’s neck as both hands softly scratched at the sides of her face, causing the feline to close her large green eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry, Dooley, I’m sorry.” McQueen sobbed.
Dooley’s stomach churned with dread and uncertainty as his brows furrowed in confusion and concern. “For what? What are you talking about?” Dooley questioned resting both his hands firmly on McQueen’s skinner-than-he-remembered shoulders.
McQueen seemed to struggle to speak once again, stammering and shaking as his hands moved along PD’s body like a swarm of angry ants. PD to her credit didn’t seem to mind her owner’s overwhelming “petting”, in fact, she seemed to greatly enjoy it.
“It shouldn’t have t-taken this long.” McQueen finally managed to stammer out. “To find you, I mean. I shouldn’t have taken so long to find you. I’m so sorry, Patrick…” McQueen made a noise between a keen and a hiccup which sounded very uncomfortable.
Dooley felt his heart beating in his ears at a quickening tempo. His own hands began to shake slightly as that feeling of dread began to spread. “Wha- What do you mean?” Dooley huffed out. “You did great, Detective, I’m here right now because of you!” He offered a shaky smile as he nudged McQueen’s face to tilt upwards.
“You did everything you could! Raxa said you wouldn’t sleep because you were so determined to look for me! So what if it took a while? I’m here aren’t I?” Dooley gazed deeply into the detective’s brown eyes, sadder than usual because of the tears that continued to stream down his friend’s face.
“It doesn’t matter…” McQueen sobbed, eyes squeezing shut while his body tensed up. “I could’ve done more, I know I could’ve. I-I-I should’ve- should’ve started looking for you in the Darkside much sooner. I should’ve looked in places you’d often go to like the goddamn phone!” McQueen hit the back of the couch hard as he finished his sentence, only slightly surprising PD who gingerly went back to kneading McQueen’s thigh with her paws. Dooley couldn’t help but wonder if it was because she was used to seeing McQueen get so worked up while he was missing.
Dooley wasted no time grabbing McQueen’s trembling hand with his own, holding it gently but with enough pressure to stop him from pulling away. “Francis, listen to me.” Dooley said firmly, gripping the crying detective’s hand, “you’re being ridicule-ous.”
McQueen hiccuped, “Wha- why are you saying it like that?”
“Because you’re ridiculing yourself for something ridiculous.” Dooley leaned closer to McQueen whose breath hitched. “You have nothing to apologize for.”
“But-“
“Shhhhh, shush. You think it’s your fault I was stuck in the Darkside for so long because you couldn’t find me fast enough?” Dooley questioned. McQueen nodded and went to speak again.
“Shhhhhhhh, keep shushing. Why? Now you can un-shush.”
“I… because I’d been to the Darkside before? You just… disappeared, so obviously something supernatural happened. I should’ve kept pestering the Brightside Division about it, I should’ve asked more people if they’d seen you around, oh god, I should’ve stayed at that gym longer… you’re always working out…” McQueen sobbed into his free hand.
Dooley stared at his friend, crying in a deep puddle of self-loathing that had presumably only begun to drag him deeper after Dooley’s disappearing act. “So… by your logic I should’ve gotten myself out of the Darkside sooner, right?” He asked, fighting back a grin.
McQueen took a breath that could’ve been a gasp as he met Dooley’s eyes again. “What? No, of course not- you couldn’t have-“
“Well I knew where I was, maybe not at first but I figured it out after a while. There were plenty of stations I could’ve gone to and asked for help but I didn’t.” Dooley shrugged, “They kept talking about things like releasing a ‘location kraken’ and ‘Wireless Emergency Alerts’, so I got out of there ‘cause they sounded totally weird and fake.” The officer’s hand moved to intertwine with the detectives, softly squeezing their palms together comfortingly as Dooley continued his argument. “If you didn’t find me sooner than you hoped then it’s only because I made it harder on you.” Dooley thought it best to not mention Geoff. McQueen was already a hot mess over worrying about Dooley so it was better to make him think his extended stay was from his own negligence than being metaphorically barred by an emotionally manipulative demon.
McQueen stared for an almost embarrassingly long time, giving Dooley time to take in his best friend’s mixed expression of bewilderment, sadness, and a hint of amusement. His hair was still messy and dirty from a lack of showering with the early stubble of a beard growing on the tip of his chin. He had taken off his tie and coat, which had a few almost unnoticeable patches on it that Dooley recognized as Patricia's fix, making him happy that his sister had helped look after McQueen while he was missing. However, McQueen’s shirt was another story, wrinkled and covered in faint splotches of stains and slight tears that presumably came from a mix of Darkside and Brightside scuffles. Dooley’s free hand absentmindedly moved to try and fix McQueen’s creased collar, brushing slightly against the detective’s neck.
McQueen had finally made some kind of noise, this time a mix between an unintelligible word and some kind of gagging sound. Then came a soft laugh which transformed into a wet chuckle, combined with sad, wheezing laughter. “You- hah… I missed you, I missed you so much Pat…” The tears came back stronger as McQueen seemed to shrink in on himself. Dooley instantly pulled him into a warm embrace, much to the displeasure of the black cat on McQueen’s lap that they had both temporarily forgotten about. PD leapt off her owner’s lap and settled back on the armrest of the sofa, tucking her front paws under her skinny body to form a small loaf once again.
McQueen sobbed and laughed into Dooley’s welcoming shoulder as his partner rubbed his back that would presumably be aching later from the awkward position they were in.
“So you agree? That it’s not your fault that I was missing for so long?” Dooley asked.
“Not in the slightest,” McQueen replied, “But I missed you too much to try and argue. I missed our dumb arguments. I… I really started to think that… that I’d never see you again.”
“Well that’s just crazy,” Dooley remarked as one of his hands moved to comb through McQueen’s nasty hair. “You always solve your cases. Even if they take a while. I guess… I guess I wouldn’t be bothered if you took all the time in the world to look for me because you’d still find me in the end. I’d just know that you really cared about me because of how much effort you always put in.”
McQueen’s face went blank as Dooley spoke only to break out into a teary grin as he let out another wet chuckle. “That… that actually helps a bit. Thank you, Patrick. I’m glad you're back.”
“So am I.” Dooley smiled, nudging his own face against the back of McQueen’s head.
At this point, they were laying on McQueen’s couch, tangled in each other’s hold. McQueen’s crying had died down to light sniffles and damp cheeks, his hands now placed on Dooley’s chest like a cat curling up for a nap.
“...Patrica and Buzz should be here soon.” McQueen mumbled, breaking the silence.
“Yeah.” Dooley replied.
“...You smell pretty bad.”
“True.”
“You should probably shower real quick. Y’know, before they get here.”
“Probably.”
“...You don’t want to get up, do you?”
“Nope.”
“Neither do I.” This time when McQueen laughed, there was no hint of tears.